


Disappear in the Light

by Anonymous



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:34:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22621099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: What's worst when you've been secretly fooling around with a teammate? An accidental baby? A vengeful ex? Or a broken heart?Lucky Jonny: he doesn't have to pick just one.
Relationships: Patrick Kane/Jonathan Toews
Comments: 6
Kudos: 185
Collections: Anonymous





	Disappear in the Light

**Author's Note:**

> gethawksdeep fill for:
> 
> Patrick Kane/jonathan Toews mpreg, they're both dating other people but are sneaking around with each other. They decide to stop before they get caught but it's too late because Patrick finds out he's pregnant. Enter angry ex gfs who expose them in the media/online and the circus that comes with all of that

“We’re better than this.” 

Jonny’s said this more than once, over the years. Because he is not a bad guy. He’s not a cheater. Cheaters are assholes, betrayers and unfit for leadership. 

Jonny is a leader. Therefore Jonny is not a cheater. 

Of course, he’s almost always said it with his face in Pat’s shoulder (shoulder, hah, sure it was always that demure). He’s almost always said it covered in sweat and come, breathless and regretful, after _yet again_ inexplicably cheating on his girlfriend, his public image, and his sense of himself. 

This time it’s different. They are both fully clothed, and it’s Patrick that’s saying it. “We’re better than this. It’s time to stop.”

He was coming into Jonny’s hand eight minutes ago, sobbing into his neck with grateful afterglow as Jonny softened and pulled out of him, brains blown by the ridiculous effect Patrick always has on his dick. The bite marks are probably still visible. But now their clothing is righted, and the self-loathing has set in. 

Jesus. He thinks Patrick actually means it this time.

****** 

“You don’t have to-“ says Patrick, seven weeks later. He looks defiant. His stubble is terrible, and he’s greenish-grey underneath it. But he’s also defiant, and trying to look strong. (He’s failing. But that’s mostly because Jonny knows him far too well for this.)

“Are you _fucking_ out of your _fucking mind_?” Jonny says. Well, shouts. He’s been under a lot of pressure. Breaking up with Heidi was just a thing that had to happen. But the collapse of their season so early, dead meat by Christmas, and not having Patrick to take the edge off? That has been bad. He didn’t realise how much their stupid fucking around on the road had come to mean. “You’re not going to do this alone!”

“It’s fine,” Patrick responds. Defiant, exhausted and still resisting Jonny. “It’s easier this way. Nobody’s business but mine. The season’s fucked. I decided to have a kid. People will buy that. They don’t have to know anything more.”

Jonny feels bad for shouting before, given how sick Pat obviously feels. But it was and remains a justifiable option, given how insane Patrick’s strategy is. “People will buy that, what? You turned 31, had a crisis, you went down some donor bank because we had a bad run in week six, and got yourself knocked up because… what?”

“I always kinda wanted to be a mom,” says Patrick. “And now it’s happening.” It is bleakly said, but it’s also clearly the truth. Which answers the other obvious question Jonny hasn’t articulated. If this baby is going to happen, then it happens. Patrick has decided. 

“Well,” says Jonny. It’s the first time he has an inkling that Patrick is serious about this. They are having a baby. It’s gonna be a secret. Patrick’s planning to raise their kid alone. “Uh.” He has to ask this part, though. “How’s Lisa feel about this?”

****

Lisa, it becomes obvious two days later, is mad as hell. And not so mad she isn’t aiming to make a pile of credit out of this. Her picture is all over the internet. So’s Patrick’s. Headlines: screaming. Memes: many.

Patrick isn’t even into the second trimester, is Jonny’s first thought. These two days, since Patrick told him about the potentially-a-baby and his insane plan, Jonny has had time to work it through. Not his part in this. That’s locked way, way down somewhere he can’t begin to engage with while he’s managing the urgent, captainly, media crisis part. But the bit where his very good friend, his longest hockey relationship, and his occasional fuck-that-can’t-mean-anything-BUT is having a baby, and wants that baby, and is nervous and excited and reading all the pregnancy books. And it’s only been not-quite-eight weeks, and this baby might not even happen. Patrick’s life hasn’t exactly been baby-friendly, and carriers are always more at risk than women.

But that is not stopping people who are not Jonny from talking about Patrick’s baby like it’s a definite fact. It’s making Jonny extra nervous.

There’s a part of him that notes, from the outside, that he’s apparently more concerned about this possible baby than he is about the implosion of Patrick’s sporting reputation which is definitely, absolutely happening right now. Hawks management has gone insane. Hawks PR is worse. Jonny has had to do media spots twice already, despite having exactly nothing to say beyond, “The Blackhawks has always been an inclusive organisation for carriers. We wish Patrick and his new family all the best.”

What he has not done, at any point, is to mention to Hawks management and PR that he is the father of the possibly-baby. And that while Lisa apparently doesn’t know that’s a possibility - she’s sold everything she can to the media, including dick pics and Patrick’s suppressant meds regime, it’s not conceivable she wouldn’t have dropped Jonny in the shit too, if she could have. He’s not the power he used to be in the game, but any captain gets enough notice to be worth selling-

Wait, he got distracted. 

Lisa apparently doesn’t know he’s a possible father for Patrick’s baby. But Heidi absolutely does. 

***

“I’m sorry about this,” Patrick says, four miserable days later. They are in his kitchen, because he needs crackers. He’s been puking again. But the possibly-baby is still doing good.

“I know,” says Jonny. “Who knew Lisa was such a-“ and he doesn’t finish the words, because they’d be bitter, and not retractable, and he’s better than that. 

“No,” Patrick shakes his head, cracker crumbs spilling with his urgency. “Not that. She was always gonna blow, someday. I mean, the baby.”

“Jeez, Pat-“ Jonny shifts uncomfortably on the breakfast bar stool. Which remains not built for a guy of his, uh, build. “We both knew you were a carrier. It’s not like we didn’t take precautions-“

Patrick dry-retches on a cracker, and takes a hasty but still measured sip of water. “Yeah, but- You know when this happened?”

Like they fucked every day, like Jonny could possibly have forgotten that they fucked two days before Patrick’s birthday and then he got dumped by his best friend. He tries not to let it show, but his voice is tight all the same. “For sure. I remember.”

“Yeah,” says Patrick. “I was pretty upset.”

Plausible. They’ve never been good at talking about their feelings. Not upfront, anyway. Just the guilty mutterings afterwards, after they exchange glances, compare schedules, fuck like idiots, and then remind themselves it’s wrong. Patrick didn’t say a lot, that last time, but what he did say wasn’t happy. 

“Mhm,” is all Jonny says. Apparently now is the time Patrick can talk. He’s not going to get in the way. 

“I threw up,” says Patrick. “I was upset, but I still took my suppressants. And then I downed a shit-ton of vodka, and I threw up. Guess it was within an hour of taking the pills. That’s what it says on the box, anyway, as a risk factor.”

Jonny pictures Patrick, positive pregnancy test in one hand, suppressant box in the other, furiously squinting at the small print, as if the instructions could retroactively fix his situation. 

He doesn’t know what to say back, and Patrick looks twitchy. He breaks the growing silence. “So, yeah. I made this baby. With vodka. Stupid, huh? Sorry.”

There’s a lot of stuff Jonny could say here. Some stuff feels like it’s building up in his throat, like he needs to speak up. It’s not Patrick’s fault, even with the vodka. They fucked, they made a kid, it’s on them both. 

What he actually says is, “Before I knew about this… I told Heidi about us.”

“Oh.” Patrick swallows. “Well, fuck.”

**

Heidi doesn’t fuck them over. In fact, she sends him a coded text, which confirms she has guessed and has no intention of telling on them. Which is cool, but no more than Jonny would have hoped for. She’s always been good for him, and a class act. More than he deserved, even allowing for how they got together as an arranged thing, to keep the media circus from sniffing out Jonny’s secret gay identity.

He can’t believe, incidentally, that he still has a secret gay identity. It’s 2020. What the fuck, NHL? How is this still a thing? But he’s also not the guy to break the code, or he never has been until now. Watching Patrick take media for months, as he gets bigger, and slower, and paler? That makes him regretful about all his past choices. Okay, they cut carriers a lot of slack, pretty much take the bi for granted, but that doesn’t mean they’re not still treating Patrick like a freak. Two sorts of freak, since he’s the first active NHL player to be publicly pregnant at all. It’s fucked up, is what it is.

Jonny doesn’t keep his distance, as the baby goes from possibility to healthy ultrasound, to undeniable kicking bulge in Patrick’s pale, stretched skin. None of the Hawks old guard do, praise jeebus, though there was some uneasy joking early doors. But nobody’s around like Jonny is around. He can’t leave Patrick alone this way. (Although alone is a poor description of the situation Patrick’s in, with all the Kane women making mercy visits, and Abby Sharp practically appointing herself a doula.) Jonny still feels needed, somehow. Patrick doesn’t show any sign of wanting him to be elsewhere, even though Jonny is shit-all use at making up a nursery or advising on childcare and post-maternity fitness plans. He just keeps on letting Jonny in. 

But they don’t talk about their baby. _The_ baby, sure, every conversation comes back to that. But not the part where it’s half Jonny’s. It’s like they’re waiting for something. Jonny doesn’t know what. Heidi’s free pass came months ago, it’s not that. Season ends, it’s not that.

He knows what it should be. He should be stepping up. Shouting it to the world, that this is his kid that’s going to be born. Patrick’s seven months gone now, this baby is definitely happening, and Jonny is definitely a dad-to-be. He should be saying so. 

But… No, he does know. He’s waiting for Patrick to give any indication he’d be welcome. As a parent, that is. He’s always been able to separate their secret cheating sex life from their friendship. (Able? It’s been the only way he could survive.) And Patrick ended their sex life. Was stricken when he thought anyone might find out about Jonny being the father. Hasn’t said a word. So Jonny’s not about to break their friendship on the rocks of what he thinks he should be doing. 

Even if he can’t sleep, many nights, for thinking about how bad he wants to. 

*********

“It’s happening,” says his voicemail, and Jonny almost punches himself in the face with how fast he moves. He’s not moving in a useful direction, but the adrenalin in his system won’t allow him to process anything but urgency. 

It’s five pm on a sticky, disgusting Chicago August night. Jonny hasn’t been fishing this summer. Hasn’t been to Europe. Hasn’t trekked nor sailed nor even been to his lake. He has hung around Chi-town waiting. Waiting for this, and the thing that hasn’t happened, and probably never will. But at least now their baby’s getting born. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” shouts Patrick at him, the moment he arrives in the hospital room. 

“I had training,” Jonny says, quickly. Like an excuse. They never said he’d be here for this. And he only missed the voicemail by forty minutes. But apparently, he should have been faster. 

“Yeah?” Patrick says, with a bitter note. “You conditioning?”

“Going pretty good,” Jonny tries, cautiously. He has a feeling this isn’t the point. 

“I’m gonna miss season opening,” says Patrick, stating the obvious. Abdominal surgery six weeks out is not prep for a full season. Even if he doesn’t feed the baby, which Jonny guesses he might, after all their conversations, he isn’t going to be at season strength much before Christmas. Which would be important, if this were an injury, and not an accidental birth of a miraculous kid. “Probably write off half a season, minimum. I’m really sorry, Jonny.”

Jonny considers the Hawks, the NHL, the Cup, their re-formed side, the hopes of one last crowning victory for his incredible career. “I don’t fucking care,” he says, firmly. “Why aren’t you in surgery?”

There is a nurse in the room. He’s pretty much ignored her till now, but she most definitely snorts at that. “You may well ask,” she follows up. “Once labour is established, it’s best to move to a section for carriers without delay. But someone wanted to wait till-”

“I didn’t want to do this without you,” says Patrick, ignoring her. “That okay?”

Jonny goes sort of weak at the knees. “Of course,” he says. He’d do this for any teammate. That’s all that this is. Despite the look of desperate relief he gets back, which gives him just the smallest warning before- 

“Okay,” says Patrick to the nurse. “Daddy’s here, let’s do this.”

Whoa. Hey. Oh. Okay. The inside of Jonny’s skull contains fireworks. Apparently, he just signed up for the whole deal. He should be freaking the fuck out. 

All the words in his head, though, besides the ones about his imminent baby? _Thank God._

He kisses Patrick hard, on the mouth, even as the nurse starts making with surgical gowns and gurneys. “Seriously? We’re doing this?”

Patrick turns pale, and grabs for Jonny’s hand, crushing it while the contraction crests. Jonny’s heartrate about doubles as he waits, half-hearing the nurse’s instructions, and the rush of other people into the room. There’s gas and air, and Patrick can’t talk through the mask, and it’s too long before he gets an answer. 

“Sorry,” says Patrick, ridiculously. “I’m a little looped. Nurses won’t tell.” Nurse #1 gives a little confirmatory “Yep”, which Jonny chooses to ignore.

“What if I want them to tell?” Jonny says, stupid in his turn. “What if I want us on the front page of the fucking Sun-Times telling the whole goddam world we made a baby?”

“That’s very much your decision, Mr Toews,” says the nurse. “But right now, we have a theatre waiting for your partner, and you need to gown up.” She’s pretty fierce. Jonny follows her directing hand, away from Patrick, without an answer. But at least he asked, right?

***

Katie Toews is born at 6.35pm. It has to be Toews, because Katie is the only name on Patrick’s provisional names list that Jonny doesn’t hate, and clearly ‘Katie Kane’ isn’t happening. So that’s easy.

After ten minutes, Patrick is still crying, focused on the baby, but clinging every time Jonny tries to move an inch away from the two of them. Their fierce nurse (Tyra, apparently) takes a photo of the three of them. They are sweaty and gross. Katie needs a bath. (So does Jonny, honestly.) Patrick’s hair looks beyond shit. Jonny’s face is goofy with adoration, and he’s not even looking at the baby. 

It’s the photo they use for their announcement. Patrick’s choice. PR hate it. 

The world, though? Seems to recognise the truth it captures. They go way beyond regional media with this one. Two idiots, old enough to know how babies are made, who got caught out and accidentally had the best thing in the world happen to them. 

There are a ton of interviews. PR are wary. Katie is uncooperative. Patrick is exhaustedly radiant. Jonny pays Heidi back for her silent support with a firm, “And we should apologise to the wonderful women who were part of our lives previously. They had no idea how we were betraying them. We feel horrible about it. It’s so much better now we can be honest.” 

It’s the truth, in a twisted way, even if not how the press will hear it. Mutually revealing your years of hopeless denial and silenced love is a big deal, but managing it around a newborn has been chaotic and anticlimactic. If what you wanted was declarations and ceremonies, at least. Jonny’s found waking up with Patrick plastered to his side, snoring after a 5am feed, to be the most romantic time of his life. 

Eventually, an interviewer asks about Patrick’s return to play. “Soon,” he says. “We have some other barriers to break down.”

“First NHL player post-partum?”

Patrick shrugs, “Sure, that’s happening. Right after the All-Star break is my goal. But also… First married couple to play on the same side in the men’s game. Right Jonny?”

It’s a terrible proposal. But it’s honest. It’s public. It’s not something Jonny’s about to turn down. 

He laughs, and says, “Sure.” 

This way is better. 

***


End file.
